ed forward. The wind, so far
from showing signs of abatement, slightly increased, no longer with
intervals of pause. The sleet changed rapidly first to snow, then to
rain--then hail, snow and rain alternated, or descended simultaneously,
always driven with cruel force by the relentless wind.

At last Lahoma shouted, "It's a regular norther! How're you getting
along, Wilfred?"

Despite their discomfort, his heart leaped at this unexpected note of
comradeship. Had she already forgiven him for not loving Annabel?
"Oh, Lahoma!" he cried with sudden tenderness, "what will become of
you?"

She returned gravely, "What will become of Brick? Northers are bad,
but not so bad as some men--Red Kimball, for instance." A terrific
blast shook the half-frozen overcoat about her shoulders as if to
snatch it away. "Don't you wish the Indians built their villages
closer to the trail? Ugh! Hadn't we better burrow a storm-cellar in
the sand? I feel awfully high up in the air."

"Poor Lahoma!"

"Believe I'll walk with you, Wilfred; I'm turning to a lady-icicle."

"Do! I know it would warm you up--a little." His teeth showed an
inclination to chatter. "Come--I'll help you down. Can you find my
arm?"

At that moment the horse gave a violent lunge, then came to a
standstill, quivering and snorting with fright. Wilfred's groping arm
found the saddle empty.

"I didn't have to climb down," announced her uncertain voice from a
distance. It came seemingly from the level of the plain.

"You've fallen--you are hurt!" he exclaimed, but he could not go to her
because the horse refused to budge from the spot and he dared not
loosen his hold.

"Well, I'm a little warmer, anyway!" Her voice approached slowly.
"That was quick exercise; I didn't know I was going to do it till I was
down. Lit on my feet, anyhow. Why don't you come to meet me?"

"This miserable beast won't move a foot. Come and hold him, Lahoma,
while I examine in front, to find out what's scared him."

"All right. Where are you? Can you find my hand?"

"Can't I!" retorted Wilfred, clasping it in a tight grasp.

"Gracious, how wet we are!" she panted, "and blown about. And frozen."

"And scolded," he added plaintively.

"But, Wilfred, it never entered my mind that I was the little girl.
Would I have brought up the subject if I'd known the truth? I never
would. That's why I felt you took advantage ... a man ought to bring
up that subject himself eve